


Lost In Paradise

by cherryandmapletrees



Series: Fallen Through The Open Door [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Coping Mechanisms, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, bughead - Freeform, bughead breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryandmapletrees/pseuds/cherryandmapletrees
Summary: Lost (noun): unable to find the way, ruined or destroyed physically or morally-OR-Betty Cooper had always thought he'd be different, enough to keep her afloat, but when she finds herself lost in their paradise, she fights to be the one who saves herself.





	Lost In Paradise

_ _

_ \--All the promises I made _

_ Just to let you down _

_ You believed in me but I’m broken-- _

 

Drowning. Drowning was the best way to describe what Betty Cooper was feeling at the moment, her breath coming in short, sporadic bursts. Her hands ached from clenching them into fists, but she didn’t relax them, curled into a ball on her side. Everything had been going so well. So damn well.

 

She should have known better than to think it would last. Nothing good ever lasted for her, as her mother was quick to point out. 

 

She’d been dating Jughead Jones for three months when he’d told her he couldn’t do it anymore; he couldn’t support her through her self-destruction any longer. Of all people, she’d thought that he would understand, understand how hard it was to pick yourself up from the hell you created and pull yourself back together in one piece. 

 

And yet here she was, alone and lost in the paradise they’d had together while he moved on. 

 

She supposed she should have seen it coming. From the way he’d withdraw from her ever so slightly when she tried to touch him, to when he stopped running his fingers over the crescent shaped scars on her palms.

 

_ \--As much as I’d like the past not to exist _

_ It still does _

_ And as much as I’d like to feel like I belong here _

_ I’m just as scared as you-- _

 

Her phone chimed quietly, signaling an incoming text. She uncurled her body and reached over to the nightstand to grab it, a flash of pain shooting through her when she saw  _ his _ name on the screen. He wanted to know if she wanted to talk. A laugh, bitter as poison and sharp as the razor blades she always sought solace in, slipped from her throat as she threw the phone across the room and rolled onto her side again, tears slipping down her face. 

 

Seven days. It had been seven days since he had given up, and he wanted to talk. Like it was somehow okay, like she’d  _ want _ to talk to him this soon. Her chest still felt like it was locked in an iron cage, squeezing her so tight, she couldn’t draw a full breath. 

 

She let the pain swallow her whole, her mind reeling back to the night when he told her he’d given up on her. 

 

\--

 

_ He called her after school on a Tuesday while she was staring at the stubborn math problem that refused to be solved. His voice was quiet, soft, and… strange. Not her Juggie. Not the boy who held her as she cried over yet another fight with her mother, who cleaned her wounds after the call of the razor blades she always kept on her became too strong to resist.  _

 

_ He asked if they could talk. That was the moment her heart cracked, her fingers curling in to dig her nails into her palm. _

 

_ With nothing more than a broken whisper, she answered “Yes.”  _

 

_ He said to meet him at Sweetwater River in half an hour, and with every inch of her soul, she hoped she was wrong about what was going to happen. She rolled off the bed, gathering her jacket and slipping on her shoes. As an afterthought, she grabbed her history textbook before she slipped out her bedroom door, moving down the steps quietly.  _

 

_ “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Betty winced as Alice’s voice cut through the silence of the house, sharp and accusatory.  _

 

_ “To the library, mom. I need to study for this history exam.” _

 

_ “And you can’t study in your room?” _

 

_ “Mr. Flutesnoot said we should brush up on the Revolutionary War for this test and it’s not covered very well in this textbook.” The lie rolled easily off her tongue, coated in enough truth to slip past Alice’s awareness. Her mother sighed heavily, shaking her head. _

 

_ “Very well, Elizabeth. Straight there and straight back. Don’t stop to see that little boyfriend of yours, do you understand me?” _

 

_ “Yes, mom.” With a final nod and a flick of her wrist, Alice dismissed Betty who stepped out the front door, her heart in her throat.  _

 

_ The cold walk to Sweetwater River gave Betty plenty of time to think, to drown in her fear of what would happen.  _

 

_ He was waiting for her at the river’s edge, hands in his pockets, beanie firmly placed on his head, and the large Southside Serpent glaring at her from the jacket around his shoulders. She felt like it was mocking her, laughing at her. He turned slightly when he heard her walk up, a sigh escaping him. _

 

_ “Betty.” _

 

_ “Hi Juggie.” God, she couldn’t do this. Not now. Not here. Not him. Please not him. He was the only one she could hold on to, the only one to keep her above water. _

 

_ “I um… We should… We need to talk.” He stumbled over his words, fiddling with his fingers and not looking up at her.  _

 

_ “You said that on the phone.” _

 

_ “I did, didn’t I?” A humorless chuckle sounded, neither of them really laughing. _

 

_ “Yeah, you did.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, her hands curled into fists, nails beginning to carve the familiar crescent moons into the skin of her palms. _

 

_ “Betts, relax your hands. I know what you’re doing, you always hide your hands from me when you’re doing it.” He moved a step forward, and she mirrored him with a step back. _

 

_ “Just say what you wanted to say. Don’t drag it out, Forsythe.” He flinched when she used his name, and his expression hardened.  _

 

_ “Fine, Elizabeth.”  _

 

_ Now it was her turn to flinch, her body curving away from him and the sound of her name, her eyes squeezing shut.  _

 

_ “I think we need to take a break. I can’t keep… carrying you like this. You’re not getting any better. I’m trying my best to help you, but I can’t do it anymore.” _

 

\--

 

\--  _ I have nothing left _

_ And all I feel is this cruel wanting _

_ We've been falling for all this time _

_ And now I'm lost in paradise -- _

 

_ I can’t do it anymore. _

 

How could such a simple sentence cause so much pain? Five words, sixteen letters. 

 

That one sentence ran through her head all day, mocking her, ripping her to shreds over and over. Whenever she felt like she might be able to breathe again, there it was, whispering into the corners of her mind, washing over her. 

 

Once again, they were opposites. Jughead Jones, Southside Serpent, ruling the halls, laughing with his friends by his side. Betty Cooper, quiet Northsider, hugging the walls and isolating herself. 

 

He didn’t look at her when they passed in the halls, and she didn’t dare glance his way. 

 

 

Six weeks later, she managed to walk past him without dropping her eyes and turning her body to angle away from him. Bit by bit she was healing, slowly. Piece by piece she’d pick herself up and carefully put everything back together. Day by day, she could breathe a little more.

 

She finally found hope that maybe one day, she’d find her way out. Maybe one day she wouldn’t be stumbling around, lost in paradise.


End file.
